writer, femme, hopeless romantic

Tag: author

I got a notification from WordPress today that my site is up for annual renewal. I had one of those cliche moments of being surprised that a whole year has passed while at the same time feeling like it’s been forever. You know that feeling, right? Then I started thinking about all that’s happened.

A year ago, I’d just finished my first full manuscript. I sent it off to Bold Strokes Books with high hopes and a little squee in my heart. I created a website and a twitter account and thought all about how to market myself as a writer. I figured I’d need to pass the months of waiting somehow.

But then a little magic happened. I was sitting at work doing worky things and got an email offering me a contract. I yelped, jumped up and down, and barely managed to sit through my next meeting. I signed the contract, updated my website and author profile with my publisher’s information. I was giddy for days.

Before too long, I was assigned an editor. Some internet stalking revealed she had four books under her belts and was both edgier and younger than me. I felt frumpy and weird until I got the first round of feedback, which was funny and kind and critical in all the right ways. My story got so much better and I started to feel like an author more than just a writer. I started a second book without hemming or hawing.

I sold my house and saw the end of Much Ado About Cake, my custom-order bakery. I was sad until I realized that I wanted to write more than I wanted to bake (and always had). I bought a house and fifteen (fifteen!) acres with my partner and learned the lingo of tractors. I made friends with fellow authors and had my friends asking for autographs and offering to provide security detail when my celebrity kicks in.

This week, I’m finishing up the final edits for Winter’s Harbor and fretting about the fast-approaching deadline to submit Built to Last, which was accepted on proposal and already has an amazing cover (no pressure). Part of me can’t believe how quickly the last year has passed. The other part can’t believe how much has been crammed into the last 365 days. It’s cliche, but it’s true. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.